


The Spoils of War

by OrangeMentats



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Brotherhood Questline Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 20:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeMentats/pseuds/OrangeMentats
Summary: On Amelia's return from Sentinel Site Prescott, everything falls apart around her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for the Brotherhood of Steel questline.

It felt strange, leaving Danse behind at the Sentinel Site. She’d become so accustomed to having his shadow and the familiar thudding footsteps of power armour at her back that climbing into the vertibird alone was almost uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if they would be parted for long, once all the missiles were safely loaded for transport he would re-join her at the airport and they would be sent on their next mission. It wouldn’t be long now until they’d launch their assault on the Institute and the abomination that used to be her son.

The vertbird’s blades kicked up radioactive dust as they spun to life and even through the lead-lining of her power armour she could feel the cloying grasp of radiation. This place was a hellhole, even after all this time. She was glad to see the back of it, despite the discomfort that gnawed at her insides at leaving her superior officer behind. He’d be fine, she knew that. He’d survived in this world a damn sight longer than she had, he’d faced much worse and come out on top. Still, something bothered her. It clawed and squirmed in the pit of her stomach as if something wasn’t quite right. It was nerves, most likely, leftover adrenaline from being stuck in a confined space with far too many ferals and far too many nukes. Hell, it was no wonder the world ended up the way it did when that many missiles were housed just a spitting distance from her marital home. How many had it taken to destroy life here before the war? Just one.

The Glowing Sea looked even more sickly from the sky, a vast expanse of nothing but death and nuclear decay. Had they really walked through that on foot? Amelia could hardly believe they’d made it to the bunker alive. She felt an almost desperate relief as the ‘bird cleared the edge of the heavy, irradiated mist that hung over the Sea like a shroud, the ticking of her Pip-Boy growing less incessant as the seconds passed. She could finally relax. Well, somewhat. She still had an iron grip on the minigun in case they ran into heavy fire from raiders or Gunners, but as far as she was concerned nothing could stop them now.

There was no trouble on their journey and beyond the Glowing Sea the weather was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. The Prydwen loomed in the distance, growing closer with every passing minute. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable on the Prydwen - if there was more than a slight breeze the rocking made still made her queasy – but it was safe and there was always a lukewarm shower available, even if you did have to share it with your comrades. The water pressure wasn’t great, but it beat being plastered in sweat and radioactive dust. And besides, Danse would soon be returning to the Prydwen, too, and she always felt a little better with him at her side.

When the vertibird docked she clambered out on tired legs, her power armour suddenly feeling far too heavy. She made her way to the power armour bay, relieved to finally shed her second skin. She felt free, light, herself again - even if her hair was slicked back against her scalp with sweat and there was a queasiness in her stomach from too much radiation. Her next stop was the showers. Normally she’d wait until late to venture into the communal showers, her old-world sensibilities had never really died, but today she was too tired and world-weary to care. The water, despite not being hot, was soothing and washed away the worst of the day’s grime. She dried herself roughly with a starchy towel, pulling on her flight suit before making her way to Danse’s quarters. The pair were rarely on the airship for long and having spent so much time together out in the field her superior officer didn’t seem to mind her coming and going however much it breached protocol. She’d never been comfortable staying in the main crew quarters and she was plagued by nightmares often enough that it simply wasn’t feasible. One night where she woke the entire crew in a screaming panic had been quite enough, especially with no one there to comfort her. As awkward as her superior could be, he was remarkably skilled at talking her down from a panic attack or the aftershocks of a particularly unpleasant nightmare.

She smiled at the thought, meandering through the corridors with damp hair still plastered to her face. There was something innately comforting about Danse’s presence, a warmth that she missed when he wasn’t there. Something about him reminded her of Nate, calm and soothing with warm, dark eyes. Deegan had once remarked to her that the two looked remarkably similar, but she couldn’t see it. Sure, they had the same dark hair and eyes, but where Nate was all square-jaw and harsh features Danse was rugged and handsome. A wistful smile pulled at her lips, perhaps Deegan was right after all. Maybe she did have a type.

She opened the door to the Paladin’s quarters, careful not to be spotted by any curious eyes. There were some in the Brotherhood that believed the relationship between the Knight and the Paladin had become too close, that it was an affront to protocol to allow them to continue to work together as they did. But nothing had ever happened between the pair, save for curling up together on particularly cold nights in the field to share body heat. As much as Amelia cared for the dark-haired Paladin, his loyalty was to the Brotherhood and procedure above all else and she wasn’t about to stain his career through her indiscretions. What small tokens of affection she had shown him were reserved for when they were alone.

His quarters were stark and orderly, save for a laser pistol and tools strewn across his desk. Amelia smiled, he was always tinkering with something. If not his power armour, it was a weapon modification or her Pip-Boy. She moved to the workbench, fingers sliding across the barrel of the pistol before moving to the bed. She perched on the edge, rummaging through her pack to find a Radaway. The nausea still persisted and according to her Pip-Boy she’d taken more rads than she thought. She hated Radaway but it was a necessary evil out in the wasteland. She hung the bag on the corner of his locker, slid the needle into her vein with a hiss, and lay back on the bed. She’d rest here, at least until Danse got back. He probably wouldn’t be long now. Lying back on the mattress, she listened to the quiet hum of the airship motors and closed her eyes. Sleep took her almost instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia gets an order she simply cannot carry out.

Amelia was awoken by the tannoy, a harsh, familiar voice barking commands over the loudspeakers. She was groggy from her abrupt awakening and it took her a few seconds to register what the announcer was saying. 

_“Knight Williams, report to the command deck immediately.”_

The voice snarled, all youthful fury and arrogance. She knew that voice. Amelia and Elder Maxson had never really seen eye to eye, mostly because she found some of what he stood for reprehensible. She agreed with many of the Brotherhood’s principles; that technology in the wrong hands could cause irreparable damage, that ferals and supermutants were a menace to the people of the Commonwealth, but their ideals parted there. Amelia could not get past his treatment of ghouls and synths and his disdain for the ordinary people of the Commonwealth, _her_ people, as she had reminded him last time they’d met. As General of the Minutemen she wouldn’t allow him to just commandeer settlements and supplies for his own means. _‘These are my people, Maxson, and you’ll treat them with respect.’_ She’d snarled, with Danse at her side. Despite her companion’s reverence of the Elder, he too had seen the error in alienating the people of the Commonwealth. They had enough enemies, they did not need to make one of the populace as well. 

With a growl, the vault dweller changed into a fresh flight suit and stalked out of Danse’s quarters toward the command deck. All eyes were on her as she passed. It felt like she were the last to be let in on some big secret, some big joke that she was the butt of. She held her head high, daring the Knights she passed to say something. She didn’t know what trouble she’d got herself into this time – and lord knew she got herself into enough of it – but she wouldn’t let them smell fear. Frankly she wondered what she’d been blamed for this time. From her perspective the entire mission had gone without a hitch. 

She entered the Elder’s observation room and came face to face with a man whose entire expression was overcome with fury. Saluting briskly, she eyed the young Elder with obvious suspicion, which only seemed to make him angrier.

“Elder, sir.”

He ignored her greeting entirely, anger rolling off him in waves. 

“Is there anything you wish to tell me, Knight?”

He snarled, positively bristling with disdain. She bristled too, furious at being summoned for an interrogation for some unknown crime. 

“I’m not sure I like how you’re asking me that.” 

She growled in response, pale blue eyes narrowing as she met the Elder’s gaze. She wasn’t just going to lie down and accept his accusations, wasn’t going to be a scapegoat for a crime she didn’t commit. 

“And I don’t appreciate being betrayed by my own soldiers.”  
He began, before launching into his explanation. The words hit her like a freight train, her head swimming with the Elder’s confession. It couldn’t be true. He was wrong. They were all wrong, this couldn’t be true. 

“You’re wrong,” Her words were nothing more than a whisper, her eyes wild with indignation. Danse, a synth? There was no way, no way on this Earth. He’d told her all about his childhood; back in DC, scrounging in the rubble before joining the Brotherhood. And Cutler, Cutler was _real_ , because their comrades remembered him, and so was Krieg. Danse had never lied to her, she was positive. 

“The findings have been verified by multiple sources.” 

He continued, while Amelia shook her head. It was impossible, implausible. It was wrong. 

“Paladin Danse’s DNA is a perfect match for a synth they called ‘M7-97’. To make matters worse, he’s gone AWOL. Disappeared without a trace. His sudden absence simply reinforces our conclusion that ‘M7-97’ and Paladin Danse are one and the same. I’m finding it difficult to believe he never confided in you and then swore you to secrecy.” 

That was the final straw, her rage bubbling over in an instant. 

“You’ve got some god damn nerve to accuse me of lying, Maxson, after everything I’ve done for the Brotherhood. After everything _he’s_ done for the Brotherhood, to accuse him of this _shit_.”

The vault dweller took a step forward, jabbing a finger at the younger man accusatorially. She noted the flash in his eyes, not fear, no, more like apprehension. He’d seen her angry, but never like this. Not fire and fury incarnate. 

“Perhaps I misjudged you,” He began, his acquiescence enough for her to drop her arm to her side, hand balling into a fist to contain her frustration. “This doesn’t absolve you of your duty, _Knight_. Danse is a synth, he represents everything we hate – a monstrosity of technology. Our mission in the Commonwealth is clear. The Institute and its creations need to be destroyed in order to preserve our future. Which leaves me facing the most difficult order I’ve ever given.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

She whispered, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. 

“Don’t you dare-“

The Elder raised one large, gloved hand to silence her. 

“I’m ordering you to hunt down Danse and execute him.”

It was like she’d been slapped. His words stung in her ears and it took her a second for them to sink in. If he really thought for one second that she’d execute her friend, her mentor, he had another thing coming. Tears prickled in her eyes, threatening to spill forward if she weren’t careful; frustration, fear, a multitude of emotions whirled inside her as she weighed her options. 

“How could you?” She spat, her voice laced with venom and disbelief. “He is your friend, one of your finest soldiers, and you’re just going to throw him to the dogs?” 

“ _It_ is an abomination, _Knight_.”

“I won’t do it. He deserves a chance, Arthur.” 

She stood her ground, all five feet of rage and fury. She must have looked pathetic, with bedraggled hair and watery eyes, standing up to a man who was usually a picture of composure. His mask was slipping, the emotion seeping through. 

“You will do it,” The Elder hissed, stepping forward to loom over her. “This is not up for judgment or debate. I’m giving you a direct order, _Knight_ , and I expect you to follow it without question.”

She knew then that she had lost, that no begging or pleading would change Maxson’s mind. She didn’t hear much after that, eyes focused on a point just past his shoulder. Grinding her teeth together and stopping the tears from falling with sheer force of will, she listened. She was to report to Quinlan to be filled in on his findings and then begin her hunt. When Maxson mentioned a promotion for completing his orders, she could’ve slapped him. Air blew audibly from her nose as she willed herself to keep calm, not to react. If the Elder knew he couldn’t count on her to do his dirty work, then he’d just send someone else instead. She couldn’t let that happen. 

Hand raised to her chest in a half-hearted salute, Amelia turned on her heel and left. It didn’t take long to find Quinlan and once again she was astounded by his arrogance and dispassion. His comparison between Danse and a transistor radio was almost enough to break her, nails digging into her palms so hard she drew blood. How could they all be so heartless? How could they just abandon their friend, their comrade, simply because of the circumstances of his birth? It was astounding how callous they could be, so blinded by worthless morals. 

It was Haylen who brought her hope, her outrage at the news rivalling Amelia’s own. But soon her accusatory tone was turned on her, as if the whole thing had been her doing, a set up orchestrated by her. 

“I don’t like your god damn tone, Haylen.”

It was only Quinlan’s threat of the Scribe being brought up on charges that settled the woman down. The Scribe icily relayed that she had information to assist in the search; malicious compliance to the last. With a nod, the dark-haired vault dweller followed the Scribe into the bowels of the ship, keen to hear what ‘information’ she had on her Paladin. 

“Haylen…” Amelia began, cut off short as the other woman whirled round to face her. 

“Do you actually plan on killing Paladin Danse?”

She asked, eyes darting over the petite vault dweller’s shoulder and then turning to look over her own, just in case. 

“What do you think?”

The venom in Amelia’s caught her off guard, full of raw emotion she struggled to contain. She was hurt that Haylen could honestly believe she would carry out Maxson’s orders blindly, without stopping to think about what she was doing. She supposed that she and Danse hadn’t seen much of Haylen or Rhys since leaving Cambridge and that her relationship with the Paladin hadn’t been quite so close back then. 

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

All at once Amelia’s mask crumpled, a ragged intake of breath the only thing stopping her façade from shattering completely. Hastily, a hand rubbed at her eyes, a whispered _‘fuck’_ , as her gaze darted anywhere except the Scribe’s face. 

“I need to find him, Haylen. Before anyone else does. _Please._ ”

Whether it was the desperation in her tone or the distraught look on her face that finally swayed the scribe Amelia couldn’t be sure. If there was one thing she’d always known about Haylen it was that she was incredibly perceptive, she’d picked up on her woes all those months ago, back at the Police Station, and comforted her despite barely even knowing her name.

“You love him, don’t you?”

The redhead asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The vault dweller sniffed, avoiding the other woman’s gaze if only because she knew to meet it meant that the floodgates would open. If the tears started she wasn’t sure they’d ever stop. 

Her silence seemed enough of an answer for the scribe. She reached out to grab the vault dweller by the arm and gave a gentle squeeze. It took all Amelia’s strength not to break down, a single, breathless sob escaping her lips. 

“Listening Point Bravo. It was a fallback point Danse had me identify in case we ever lost the police station. It’s isolated and we’re the only ones who knew about it, so there’s a good chance that’s where he’s headed.” 

Amelia nodded numbly as the scribe took her arm again to mark the bunker on her Pip-Boy’s map. 

“Just.. be careful. There’s no telling what state of mind he’s in right now, or if he trusts any of us at all.” 

“I will be Haylen, don’t you worry. I’m more worried about him than I am about me. I don’t trust that Maxson hasn’t sent half the Brotherhood hunting for him at this point.”

“He won’t. Not yet, anyway.”

There was a grim smile on the scribe’s lips, one which Amelia met with a half-smile of her own. At least she had an idea of where to start looking, the only issue was getting there without being followed. A vertibird would be the fastest way to reach the bunker but she couldn’t risk leading the Brotherhood right to her sponsor’s hideout. She squeezed Haylen’s hand gently and turned on her heel, purposeful steps taking her back up toward the flight deck.


End file.
